


Stranger, The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:04:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Stranger, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Stranger by Gloria Lancaster

A small scene that amused me to write and I hope, you to read. No original copyrights were harmed in the making of this epic. M/M premise assumed, not explict, sorry. 

* * *

The Stranger  
by Gloria Lancaster

Fox Mulder knew this was a great big fat mistake, and he didn't hesitate for more than a few seconds before knocking on the door. He waited then knocked again: he knew AD Skinner was home, his car was there out front and Mulder had checked there were lights in the building before approaching. He's here, Mulder muttered to himself, I know he's here. He knocked again. It wasn't that late, barely 9.00pm. And Skinner had said he wanted the report on Mulder's latest case asap. The file (the excuse) clutched firmly in hand Mulder knocked yet again. 

He leaned forward a little, hearing noises, sounds of movement, someone approaching the door and he braced himself, manila file folder held before his chest as shield and reason. He breathed deeply, ready to face the overwhelming presence of his boss, the man who haunted him day and night, Walter S Skinner. 

The door opened and Mulder blinked, looked and blinked again. "What...?"

It wasn't Skinner, it was no one Mulder knew or had ever seen before. It was a man - young, early thirties, maybe late twenties, attractive and slim with tousled thick brown hair, distinctive features and amused hazel eyes. Dressed in a deep green silk bathrobe that looked too big for him. That looked as if the man had just shrugged it on over naked skin. That looked as if it belonged to someone bigger, taller, wider. That looked as if it belonged to AD Skinner. 

The amused eyes took him in from head to toe, raking his body with frank appraisal, then the man gave a small smile and his eyes narrowed fractionally: "Yes?" 

Mulder felt the cold creep down the back of his neck at the accent. English, with that languid inherent disdain so many English voices had. "I - Skinner, where is he?" Mulder asked, feeling angry for no reason at all. 

The hazel eyes narrowed again, and the chiselled distinctive face hardened fractionally. "Walter's asleep." 

Mulder nearly dropped the file at the possessive use of the name. "I need to see him," Mulder grated and pushed past the other man, taking in a faint and disturbing odour, expensive cologne mixed with the clean sweat of exertion. It was second nature for Mulder to reach for his gun, drawing it without fuss and stalking forward cunningly, checking corners. He was aware all the time that the English stranger was watching him with some little annoyance but a great deal of amusement. 

"Walter is asleep," the stranger repeated and followed Mulder into the large elegant sparse living room. The stranger switched on all the lamps and waved accommodatingly. "Take a seat, I'll wake him," he said and moved away languidly then Mulder heard the sounds of someone coming down the stairs. 

"What is it Adam, I was asleep, you shouldn't just open the door like that, it could be..." and AD Skinner walked down the stairs, shouldering into a dark brown robe but not before Mulder could see the naked muscled body beneath. 

The English stranger, Adam?, turned around and walked back towards Mulder, his face still reflecting nothing but amusement. "Walter, relax, I think it's just one of your agent people," and he settled down on the couch, taking up a lot of room and sprawling elegantly. 

Mulder tore his eyes from this to find Skinner looking at him and his drawn gun doubtfully: "Agent Mulder," it was not quite a question. 

Mulder put his gun away reluctantly; whatever was going on here, it was not immediately dangerous to his boss or to himself. And what was going on here, Mulder didn't want to think about any of that too closely. Two naked, robe clad sleepy eyed men, calling each other by their first names so intimately, at nine on a Friday evening... Mulder didn't want to think about any of this at all. 

"Agent Mulder," Skinner said it again, impatient now. 

Mulder held out the file in justification. "You said as soon as possible sir, here it is," he sounded nervous, he knew it, but the intimidating elegance of the stranger was throwing him, badly. 

"And the gun?" Skinner said it even as he took the file and set it down, uninterested. 

"I'm sorry," Mulder could feel his cheeks heat just a little. Whenever he'd imagined being here like this with Skinner in a robe and nothing else, he'd never imagined it this way. "I don't know who this - I wasn't sure if you were -" Mulder stopped, took a breath and said again: "I'm sorry sir."

The English stranger stood and Mulder could hear the distinct sounds the silk made against his skin. "My name is Adam and I'm just an old, old friend." He moved past them both, trailing a casual hand across Skinner's robe-clad shoulder as he did so. "I need a beer," he said negligently and disappeared towards the kitchen. 

Mulder stood and felt anger race through him at a deadly white hot pace: the arrogant bastard, how dare he - how dare they both - compromise themselves like this? The anger found vent: "I thought I could trust you, thought you were different," he hissed at his boss.

"You can trust me," Skinner said placidly, "now, you want to tell me what's brought on this particular hissy fit, Agent Mulder?" 

"How could you," Mulder shouted it, then moderated his tone with a darting glance at the kitchen doorway, "be so dumb as to let yourself get wrapped up in something like this? Oh, I can imagine Cancerman's delight with all this, you're handing him all the ammunition he needs, blackmail is a very ugly word."

"It is very ugly," Skinner agreed and sat down on the couch, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He wasn't wearing his spectacles - this fact suddenly hit Mulder in the guts. "You want to tell me just why Cancerman can blackmail me?" 

"You can ask that, when a strange naked man opens your door of a Friday evening and then..." Mulder stopped as the English stranger came back, carrying two glass bottles. He handed one of these to Skinner and took the other and lounged back on the cough again, his feet practically in Skinner's lap. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he asked, innocently enough. 

"No Adam," Skinner replied with a smile, "I think Agent Mulder was just leaving," he added meaningfully. 

"Yeah, I can see you're too busy right now to actually read the file I've sweated my butt off to prepare," Mulder muttered and snatched up the file. That smile had been the final straw: "I going," he stated and stalked over to the door. 

Skinner set down his beer and followed and held the door for Mulder with great courtesy: "Agent Mulder," he said mildly enough but with something like steel beneath the tone, "Agent Mulder, you have a dirty mind. Adam is an old, very old, friend. Anything else is none of your business, or Cancerman's, or the X Files - and even if Adam were more than a friend, it would have nothing whatsoever to do with you, do you understand me?"

"Cancerman finds out your queer, the X Files will be finished," Mulder said hotly, then bit his lip at the condemning words. 

"Thank you for your concern," Skinner said blandly. 

They both turned then as the English stranger came into the hall and leaned over Skinner's shoulder to look at Mulder. "Nice to meet you Agent - ah, Mulder was it? I'm tired, I think I'll go back to bed," then directly up into Skinner's face, "don't be long will you darling?" he turned and walked away, Mulder's eyes following every step. 

Skinner voiced reluctant admiration: "He's got quite the nerve," he muttered, then turned to focus on Mulder again. "I'll see you in my office at 9.30 on Monday morning Agent Mulder, we have some things to discuss you and I." 

Mulder turned away insolently, feeling nothing but a creeping icy hatred for the man: a man he thought he knew, could trust, a man above suspicion, apart from the dark corners and shadowed motives that surrounded everything else in his life. "I'll be there - Walter," he ground out under this breath and walked away. 

                             ***

Adam stood in the bedroom doorway, his face alight with mischief. "Well?" Skinner growled but Adam only looked more delighted. 

"That young man has a serious case of hero worship for you my darling Walter," he answered and handed the other man the forgotten beer. 

"Blow it out your ass," Skinner retorted rudely and took a long drink. "And what's with the darling business?" 

"I'm sorry," Adam didn't look sorry in the least, "he seemed so stricken, it was obvious he thought he'd interrupted some hot gay love fest, I just couldn't resist."

"Next time," and Walter leaned over into the other man's face, "try a little harder." 

"Next time," Adam drawled and leaned back, "I will," and he offered his lips up for the kiss. 

                             ***

Mulder drove home and checked his phone messages carefully: Scully three times, his mother once and Frohike once. He sat in the dark on the couch and watched tv and rubbed at his eyes occasionally: if he could remember how, he might have cried. 

GL: 1557 words, 4 Jan 1997  
Any guesses who the Stranger is? ;-)  
\--   
Gloria Lancaster -   
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a fan will forgive anything, except a third season without Ray. 


End file.
